Elsgod
by The Mustachioed Cat
Summary: Good lord, did I really write this? DEFUNCT!
1. Forgetting

  
  
Dreams are funny things, you know? At one moment they are incredibly vivid, to the point of becoming false realities. The only way someone can discern between their own reality and the true one is to be aware that they are dreaming, and that seldom happens. Serge awoke on the beach, right after that moment, when one world became two, and then one again. He held the Mastermune, though he thought for certain he had held another weapon, and some money. That had added some pertience to the dream, the wonderful and complex dream, but soon he learned to ignore these. All of those people had never existed, save in his own mind, he told himself. They would never be, but Leena was here with him, now. And thus, as it happens with all dreams, Serge forgot.  
  
But that which is forgotten, is not gone.  
  
The greater dreams were not yet finished. Far from it.   
  
And deep within the flow of time, Lavos waits.  
  



	2. Ressurection, Rebirth, and Death

Author: A favor please. I know that there are some errors in this text, both grammar and spelling. I apologize, and will continue to update the text until it is fixed. Comments and Criticisms are appreciated, as are reviews.  
  
Whatever this may seem at first, it has more bearing on Chrono Cross than Trigger. Arigato, and Ja Ne.  
  
  
  
Elsgod - Resurrection, Rebirth, and Death  
  
Prologue.  
  
A mind floated in a plain of nothingness. The mind was dark and broken, silently bleeding away sentience and memories. It had arrived under a state of extreme mental stress, and finding itself in the place that was both black and white had shattered it. What had it been once? It was impossible to tell. The core of the mind, perhaps it was the soul, was still intact, but buried so deeply that it couldn't possibly be aware of itself. In other words, a corpse without flesh floated through a plane where time did not move, but movement was possible. A place where a physical mass could laugh and cry without moving an inch in the space time continuum. In short, an impossible place.  
  
Ark studied the mind from afar, trying ascertain it's identity. It was very difficult, as the mind was in a state of advanced decay, and making contact was almost impossible. It swam through the unreal place with the grace of a diver, seemingly oblivious to everything save the shattered mind It was slowly circling.  
The soul of the thing was buried too deeply... hiding, Ark supposed. So it wasn't like the others, it wasn't a thing borne out of nothingness. Ark gently reached out and touched the consciousness, nothing. A little deeper, into the subconscious, empty. Deeper still, to the ID, there was... something. Ark withdrew into itself and pondered.   
The last time it had taken something outside the Timestream into it, the results had been terrible... but still... Ark reached out and probed into the ID a little deeper, looking for memories or concepts of self that would only be present in the mind of one native to the timestream. It saw images flash before it's eyes, a place removed from... the Earth. A place hovering high above the Earth, a place of elementals and demi-human magickas... a feeling that might have been compassion... and then fear.   
The Ark gently withdrew from the ID and again pondered. This place, It thought for certain it knew that place... a place borne of hopes and dreams, and fell because of an intense arrogant zeal. The thing reached out and touched deeper into the mind, fairly certain it was causing harm but not able to help it. It had to have a name, it had to. It had to be certain that this creature couldn't cause damage to the timestream.   
Then suddenly the Ark found itself being pulled into the decrepit mind. A force that could act on it outside Time? The Ark realized it had made a mistake, that this mind was exactly like the ones before, and that there was a very good chance It was going to die. It tried to resist, but had nothing to push off of, It had even forgone an anchor to the timestream. For a moment the Ark cursed It's stupidity, and then it vanished.  
  
Story.  
  
Her entire body trembled before the power before her. She was not a weak woman, not normally given to such absolute unrest, but still the... the sheer alieness of the power that seemed to swirl around her like a black wind made her wish herself dead. The power touched her all over her body like the bony claws of skeletons, tearing at her flesh and clothes, as if trying to get to her heart... so that they might consume that too. In the distance she saw her brother, standing in his nightgown, taking in the scene calmly. She tried to reach out to him, but the wind wouldn't let her. The boy simply stood there, and watched the wind totally consume his sister...  
...And Schala woke up, screaming, into the arms of her brother. She clung onto him roughly and whispered into his ear, "Don't ever let that Wind catch you Janus, never let it..." and then she realized that 'Janus' was in fact her attendant Nade. The younger woman was very white and sweating. "Miss... Miss Schala, you were screaming, and..." The attendant broke into tears and rushed from the bedroom, letting out a string of garbled apologies. Schala watched her go and then looked down at herself. Her body was covered in a fine sweat, and she felt hopelessly dirty.   
She pushed the covers off the bed and climbed out. Already the dark dream was fading from her memory. She wished she could speed it along.  
***  
Later that day, after apologizing to Nade, Schala started looking for her brother who, for whatever reason, had disappeared. It wasn't unusual, Janus was well known for walking into the forests surrounding the Palace and not come back for days at a time... but he always left a note or a message that told her, never their mother, where he was and when he expected to be back. The guards outside the entrance said they hadn't seen him leave, and his cat Alfador was still walking around being underfoot... yet he wasn't in the castle. She had wandered into the library, absently thinking of asking the Nu that worked there if It had seen her err brother, when she someone new.   
***  
He walked up and down the wall high rows, squinting at the odd title, thumbing through a few pages, and then discarding them. Nothing had what he was looking for. Some books didn't even have magicka attached to them, just rows and rows of meaningless symbols. He opened a book and was blasted with sharp icy needles, another, a fiery maelstrom. He was ready to give up when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled so quickly he almost lost his balance. 'What!?!' he wanted to scream. 'Go away you damned gnat, AWAY!' but he couldn't. He was expecting that bumbling blue thing... the Nu, and by all rights that was who the transgressor should have been, but instead he found himself face to face with the Princess Zeal.   
He simply stared for a moment, a million things occurred to him, but the overwhelming emotion was fear. He turned and started away when she caught his shoulder, making him turn again. "Have you, seen my brother? A boy about this tall?" the girl motioned the boy's height. "No", he said gruffly. The girl nodded, not very surprised, and turned. He relaxed with his entire body, and was ready to turn when several guards appeared at the entrance.  
He dived into another aisle and crouched down. 'Damnation!' he screamed to himself. First the Princess and now them! He crawled down the aisles and listened to the guards questioning the Princess in a meek apologetic manner. "A man with white hair? Yes I saw him..." his hand went to his head and gave it a yank. Stupid. From what he had seen of everyone else, white hair was extremely rare. The guards were checking the aisles now, he was going to be thrown out... out of the one place that might be able to help him remember... "To me! To me!" a nearby voice screamed. He cursed and got to his feet, a guard had seen him through the shelves. Guards appeared on either side of the aisle, brandishing long staves.   
The white haired man showed his hands to the guards, demonstrating surrender. A guard, a special one from the gold trim on his armor, simply sneered and shot a magicka from his stave. For a moment his target simply stood, marveling at the guard's stupidity, and stepped to one side, allowing the fireball to sail past, down the aisle, and strike another guard squarely in the stomach. That however, was a mistake. All the guards charged, wielding their weapons as batons. Their bloodshot eyes filled with xenophobia and revenge.   
He didn't have a moment to blink when the first stick hit him, causing his nose to make a painful crunching sound. Even as his body recoiled he was struck from behind, and then from the front again. The hits all blurred together in one grand symphony of pain. He tried to breath, but couldn't get air into his lungs. His eyes started to flash as he fought against unconsciousness. Around him the guards were laughing, spitting on him and calling him names. He felt his left arm arch at an awkward angle before snapping, making him scream inside his chest. The pain was so intense, so all encompassing, that it took him a moment to notice that the beating had stopped.  
He heard voices apologizing, sensed the guards bowing, and then standing again, and leaving. One stepped on his broken arm and he screamed, the pain blossoming again... but then it was over. He tried to open his eyes but found he couldn't. He sensed someone walking up to him and immediately recognized the smell. The Princess.   
***  
Schala couldn't believe the sheer savagery she had been witness to. She had wandered after the guards in curiosity and maybe a little guilt at having given that man away, but what she found... it was like her dream, except from her brother's perspective. The guards, many of which she had known since she was a little girl, were beating the man to death. She had froze at the sight, terrified by what she saw and felt in the guard's eyes and souls. She screamed for them to stop, and they turned to her with those same eyes and she felt that they were going to beat her to death too... but then their eyes softened, as if awakening from a dream. She ordered them down to their knees, which they did quickly. The sergeant, an officer in gold trimmed armor, spoke up. "Our sincerest apologies mistress, but this man... he is an Earthbound!" Schala, upon hearing the contempt that the sergeant linked to the term 'Earthbound' forgot her fear and exploded in fury, "He is still human!" The guards shriveled before her gaze. "But mistress... his kind are forb-" The guard looked up from his kneel, looked Schala straight in the eye, and froze. "My... apologies your highness... it will... never happen again." The guard was gasping for breath, sweat running down his face. He bowed his head and stood, the others following. "I think you should all question your humanity." Schala drove the words home like fists. Each man seemed to melt. The sergeant turned and led them away. One of the guards accidentally stepped on the Earthbound's arm, which was twisted in a fashion that hurt to look at, and hopped away quickly, before being struck across the neck by one of his fellows.  
Schala waited until they had left the library, and then walked to the Earthbound. As she approached he tried to kick away, making tiny mewing sounds as he went. She stopped, unsure of what to do. "I won't hurt you," she said. "I'm not going to hurt you." She murmured to herself and began to go through the patterns of healing in her mind. Her hands began to emit a soft, golden glow. The Earthbound stopped retreating, and went limp. She tried to reach out with her mind to sooth his, but it was sealed completely, he was unconscious. She knelt by him and touched his broken arm, which immediately began to heal. Then she touched his face and chest.   
***  
He ran away, into the bliss of unconsciousness, but even there, as he dreamed of trees with as many leaves as he had questions, he felt warmth grow around his entire body. It was something that he had never felt before, and it frightened him. But his dreams began to swallow him up, and soon it was forgotten. Those dreams turned to nightmares.  
***   
He was running down a long hallway, flanked by a fellow researcher, Relista, and the robot Prometheus. A guard ahead of them turned and opened his mouth. 'NO! He wanted to scream. You can't, must not, stop us!' But he didn't have the time or the breath. He produced a dagger from his baldric and threw it at the guard's leg. Guard down, they ran past.   
They should have known better than to trust FATE. They shouldn't have put it in charge of all temporal experiments, should have realized the moment it attained self-awareness. But they hadn't, and now if this last experiment took place Chronopolis would be reduced to a cinder.   
Relista fell again, her leg was still hurt where the robotic security systems had burned it. Prometheus kept on running, but He stopped to help her up. They made eye contact for a brief instant, and He felt warmth all over. Maybe, if or when this nightmare was all over, there would be time for more then just that awkward glance... it was up to Prometheus now, whether or not It was able to stop the experiment that was being misguided by FATE into killing them. The two of them were powerless to do anything but consol each other, and await their end, or rebirth. He joined her on the floor where they huddled together like children.   
A minute passed, and nothing happened. He began to think Prometheus had succeeded when there was an explosive popping sound, and a wall of black nightmare rushed towards them. They had failed. Eye contact. Acknowledgment. And then she disappeared.  
***  
The Zeal kingdom existed above all clouds, but still fell under a shadow. People where changing, Schala could tell. There was a look about them, and an errie quietness at the Palace. There was no small talk, no gossiping... it was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. It frightened Schala, she wished she knew where Janus was, that would be a small reassurance that not everything had changed.  
The Earthbound was resting in Nade's quarters. The poor servant had almost snapped when Schala arrived with a bloodied man in her arms, asking for shelter. She would have to reward Nade somehow, when this was over. But what were they supposed to do? The Earthbound were forbidden from the Upper Realm, and the man was obviously trying to gain arcane knowledge. She would be lucky to get him back to the Surface before some guard got around to mentioning the incident to her mother.   
***  
Nade answered the door. She ushered Dalton inside.  
***  
Relista did not melt away, she did not wither and scream, she simply ceased to be. One moment He was touching her, the next his hands touched nothing. They had failed. The screams of the damned roared in His ears, and the dark wind howled. Yet he remained. How long he huddled in that hallway he didn't know, but he was more then a little insane when the roaring stopped. The dead whispered to him, accused him. He fled Chronopolis, off the island and into the sea. Where... something had happened. What was it?   
He was suddenly aware. He was not in the dream, but viewing it as a memory. The fevered shock went through him, from his stomach to his limbs. And thus he awoke, hot and sweaty. At least he had learned one thing, Relista had whispered it just before FATE had taken her away. His name.  
***  
Dalton was waiting.  
***  
"Well, what do we have here?" The voice was the first thing... He could define it's owner already; brash, arrogant... "Looks like some vermin stowed away!" He opened his eyes. A man with long, frizzy brown hair and an orange cape sat next to him, chin in his hands. He was smiling. It was unpleasant. "Ah yes? A fine, big one! Why, I bet we could make an entire pot of stew, what do you think Nadee?"  
A young girl stood next to the only exit of the room. Her eyes were cast downward. "If you say so Sir Dalton." The man, Dalton, laughed and slapped his thigh. "Oh, but we are going to have such a good time! Earthbound, I must thank you, it has been an age since we had any decent entertainment in the courts of Zeal." The man rolled his eyes. Yes, that was a maniac gleam. "Oh, must have been a fortnight now! But a battle to the death, Ah! that should wet the Queens palate! Don't you agree Nadee?" The girl said nothing. "Now, most illustrious guest, if you might come with me?" Dalton stood and beckoned. The man on the bed didn't move. "Oh, come now, must it all end this way?" Dalton snapped his finger and guards walked into the room, absently pushing aside Nade, who almost fell over. "Guards." Dalton commanded, still smiling. "See that our guest receives all that accompanies his prestigious position!" The guards yanked him out of bed.   
Dalton turned to leave, but stopped, "If the good sire would please give us his name, so that we might whisper it in our queens ear?" Still smiling. The man looked at him for a moment. Was what he dreamt truth? If nothing else, it provided him an answer. "Ark. My name is Ark." Dalton nodded, hesitated, nodded again. "Well, my good Ark, I hope you will be satisfied with our meager accommodations." Then he left.  
***  
The guards threw Ark into a cell. The bed was wet and covered with bugs.  
***  
Schala hadn't meant to strike out at Nade. She really hadn't. The girl wilted away from her, the color beginning to come into the hand shaped mark on her face. She stepped back, again, tripped over a chair and landed on the floor, too frightened to even cry. Schala, in the moment she had struck her, had looked at her in a way she had never seen before. Nade finally reached a wall, and buried her head in her hands, crawling into a fetal position. Schala let it go on for several moments, hating herself for it. "Why?" It was only one word. A question that could have a thousand different meanings. It made Nade flinch. "Sir Dalton... he... *hic* he... promised..."   
Schala's eyes widened. How could she have... she rushed over to her, and scooped Nade's head into her arms. "I'm sorry, I had... forgive me, I had forgotten." Nade continued to rant, mostly incoherent sobs. She reached out and, forgetting herself, hugged Schala, who whispered soothing things into her ear. Several hundred days previous, Dalton had taken something very precious from Nade... her innocence. Schala was the only other person to know, and had had to bear the first tens of days of Nade's pining. But gently the girl realized how little she had actually meant to Dalton, and her world had crashed. Schala had had to hold her, just like this, days ago. It was unimportant that she was the Princess and Nade the servant, they were both friends.   
Later, Nade grew very quiet. Her form still shook, but less. She finally looked up and her Princess, wiped her face clean, and stood. "I... I... m sorry." She managed, and looked uncertain. Schala rose too, and made to whipe her wet dress off. They both smiled, Nade hesitantly. "It's okay. Don't linger on bad memories." An image flashed in Schala's head, of a middle aged man who had always had a smile for her, who hadn't gotten to see Janus take his first steps... but she shook it away.   
She made sure Nade was all right, really all right, and then turned to leave. "Oh Miss Schala!" Nade called after her, already falling back into habit. She turned. "The Earthbound, he told Dalton his name. It's Ark." Schala nodded, smiled, turned... "Miss Schala, you know your mother wouldn't want you to do this." Falling back into the old habits indeed. Schala stopped, back to Nade. Monotone. "Did Queen Zeal at any point in time speak directly to you, telling you of her desires?" Schala asked. Nade shook her head. "Then I go." Nade waited until the door had closed, and then collapsed.  
***  
Resting on the cool stone of his cell, the memories continued to trickle down. His name, was it his name? It didn't matter, it had opened the door to a jumble of confusing images. Ark could only listen, taking as much in as he could. He would sort through them later.   
Relista, Prometheus, Valen, Gasper, Elsgod, Lavos... names, most without faces and context, but names nonetheless. The return was so welcome that it took him a very long while to realize that it was meaningless. The knowledge was all redundant. Memories of what he had eaten one morning thousands of days ago, a certain thing some nameless person had said to him. They were all unrelevant. The names that he didn't already associate with people were just names, there was no information, no explanation as to why he knew them, where he had met them, or why their names would appear in his head out of a venerable sea of people he must have known.   
There was nothing more of Relista after that moment in Chronopolis, nor Prometheus. There was nothing after he had leapt off the docks and into the sea, desperate to escape the accusing wraiths... it was all a cruel trick.   
Ark had had enough. He close his eyes, reached deep within himself, feeling as carefully built up barriers, no doubt created by himself, shatter. He went into the undermind, and was about to shock himself into a deep sleep, when a soft voice floated through the magic field that held him in place.  
"What are you doing?"   
Ark floated lazily in the murky either, debating if he should ignore the voice. Nothing anyone could say would consul him right now, he needed the bliss of sleep. Ark paused a moment to collect himself and then, for all intents and purposes, shut himself off.   
***  
Three minutes later he woke up. Someone was poking him in the side. He groaned and rolled over. He should have been out for longer. "Dead? Unliving?" That voice again. Ark opened his eyes and made eye contact with a child. The child had white hair, with a bluish hue. Odd hair color seemed to be characteristic of Zealians, Ark touched his own hair absently, save all white.   
The boy stood there, waited until Ark was fully back from dreamscape, and turned. "You want to escape or not?" Ark nodded. There were no answers here. He stood and followed the boy to the entrance of the cell, where the magic field still crackled with energy. The boy never stopped walking, the energy field seemed to blister around him. He turned and regarded Ark coolly. "You have to follow close. I can't do this for you." Ark moved closer to the kid. The field continued to expand, and then popped. Ark was outside the cell, the energy field was busy restructuring itself.  
"Come on, you can't make it anywhere without me." The kid walked down the hall. Ark followed close behind.   
***  
Dozens of minutes later, after passing countless guards, citizens of Zeal and the man with the orange cape, the jester? without being seen, they arrived in "my sister's room," as the kid had explained. "She doesn't know we are here yet."   
Minutes passed in silence. Ark sat down on the floor. More time. The girl, Nade? came in and changed the sheets of the bed. She didn't see them. More minutes, dozens. Finally the silence was broken, "How did you do that?" the kid. Ark looked at him a moment.   
"What?"   
The kid jumped off his chair and began to pace back and forth.   
"What you did. You shut yourself off."   
"I just did."  
The boy stopped and jumped back into the chair.   
"If that's all you have to say, don't say it."   
Silence...  
***   
He had followed the boy, and stayed in this room, because it seemed that nothing could make his situation any worse. He was wrong. When he had bumped into the Princess in the library, the fear he had felt had been deep, complete, and totally irrational. That he had reflected on it didn't stop him from tensing every muscle in his body when she walked in the door. He clawed through his scattered memories, trying to pick up a picture or thought... anything that would explain his fear. Nothing.   
***  
Schala wasn't surprised to see her brother, though she was relieved. He looked at her when she entered and nodded. Then she saw him, Ark. He was naked from the waist up, and by the look of his body and the energy he was giving off, very distressed. Janus jumped from his chair and crossed over to his sister. "You needed to see him." He moved around her. "We'll talk later I think, when we're together again." The door closed.   
***  
The moment the door closed, Ark felt the kid leave. Not just leave the room, as he had obviously done, but totally disappear from the physical plane. Ark didn't know what that meant, didn't have time to think about it. His main concern was the Princess. But she had turned towards the door, had she sensed the kid leave? She was shaking slightly, and he thought he heard her whisper something to herself. His body stayed tense.  
***  
"When we're together again." Schala whispered. It was beginning to make sense. She turned to the Earthbound, though she knew he wasn't bound to Earth or the Upper Realm. "What are you waiting for?" She whispered quietly. The man was tense, shaking slightly. "You're going to leave too, aren't you?" Her voice cracked. "Just like Janus, you're going to leave, because you don't belong here." The man remained. "You're going to fade away, leave me here alone, like everyone else, aren't you?" Nothing. "Aren't you!?"  
The images were floating into her mind now, yes... she remembered. She had held Nade in her arms like that once... hundreds of millions of days ago, and it had been the last time. The servant had killed herself the next day, cut her wrists. Janus was gone too, swallowed into a time vortex created by... Lavos. The images of everyone, Dalton, the guards, the people that populated the Palace, was an exact mirror of what she had pictured them as just before the disaster at the Sea Palace.   
She was dreaming... or was she dead, and this some twisted afterlife? She remembered only cowering before Lavos, and pain. Where was she?   
***  
Ark could feel her changing. Read it in the energy her body was giving off. He slowly stood. The energy was almost the proper hue... there. "You have answers now?" his question was shaky. He feared the answer. The Princess looked at him for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time. "You, your not from me, are you?" She asked. He shook his head. "I am from myself... whoever that might be." They stood, contemplating each other. "I don't know why I am here..." He began. "I don't know who I am, or how I came to be here. Do you know?" She shook her head. "This is a place within myself. My dream."  
***  
There was a crash outside. Neither needed to look. The floating island that supported the now obsolete weapons of power had broken from the magic grid that suspended the floating continent. It was falling. "When someone realizes... that they are dreaming..." Schala said, shaking, "It is usually, right before that dream ends." Beams of yellow light split through the sky from Earth. Lavos. "But... I am not certain what I will wake up to." They felt the island, shattered, begin to drifted apart and fall.   
***  
Ark felt something tugging at his memory, something very important. He looked at her, blinked, and saw a monstrous thing behind her. Blinked again, it was gone. They slowly floated off the floor, as the island's fall accelerated. He reached out to her, and she took his hand. That memory... perhaps nothing major, nothing that would reveal his past, maybe not even something that would save his life now, was important. They grasp each others hands, and made eye contact. Then it happened.  
*Flash* The old man... "it was difficult to anticipate the actions of something borne outside of the timestream. What you did was right."   
*Flash* A thing breaking out of the Earth, laying ruin to it.   
*Flash* "What you did was right."   
*Flash* People's bodies silhouetting massive explosions as entire continents were bathed in fire.   
*Flash* "What you did was right... abet foolish."   
*Flash* He was on his knees before the old man. The crone figure regarded him for a moment, and then hit him with a cane. "I can't forgive you! I have no right, only you can forgive yourself."  
*Flash* He was floating, a dot of light in an impossible place. He was slowly circling a hot thing. A thing with no concept of self or other. He had pitied it, and taken it back into the timestream. But it had been born of nothing. Submerging it into the physical plane made it insane. If the word sane could have ever been applied to it.  
*Flash* An explosion at it crashed to Earth, and a whisper that was passed down in memory. A name given to the being by a half human. Lavos.  
*Flash* Insanity, roaming planes and times, ranting to himself, hurting himself. Seeking penitence where there was none to be found, only death.  
*Flash* Destruction, rebirth, and then... Relista smiling at him. Something half glimpsed from a dead timeline.   
and then...  
"I was born of Zeal, the land where Magic was first harnessed." The old man wheezed. "In the twilight of that Empire, they established direct contact with Lavos." Ark cringed. "The power perverted that people, and only the most strong among them were able to resist it... or completely embrace it." The old man hacked, spit. "One of them was the King Zeal. He recognized perversion, and urged his wife not to exploit the energy. Unfortunately, his wife had already embraced the power. He was sent to a sacred place, the floating mountain, and never heard from again. The only other people that resisted where the Prophet, a time traveler himself; Janus, the Queen's young son; and the Princess, Schala." Ark remained on his knees. "Out of all of them, Schala was the strongest. Lavos split us apart, sent us to different time periods. Schala is the only one I haven't felt or met. She could have been sent into a failed timeline that I can't see, or she might have been erased totally. I use the word 'erased' because I never felt her death... and I know I would."  
*Flash*  
***  
They were rising towards the ceiling, the wind was screaming outside, tearing the Palace apart. Ark desperately yanked the Princess, Schala, towards him. In the gray haze that was his mind, he saw himself wrapping an arm around her waist, and another around her eyes. Then he bent down and whispered, "Don't. Think."   
***  
There was no other choice. She let her mind glaze over, and in the shadow of destruction, found sleep.  
***  
*Flash*  
***  
  
He went through a tunnel, images and people passed by him to quickly to take in. In his hands he held the Princess, or a good part of her. He tightened his hold...   
They... he, was free. He floated in the endless void outside time once again, a sleeping Schala in his arms. He curled his being around her, for this place was not meant for her eyes. Then he debated what to do. Pulling something back into the timestream might always have the side effect of rendering it insane, and Ark did not want that. Yet the Princess could not possibly adapt to being in this place, and she had realized to much about herself to become deluded in a life-dream again...  
He scanned the horizon. Nothing but nothing, save the infinitesimal band of ever-changing color that was the timestream, and the large blackness that always cowered next to it. Lavos.  
Lavos... The answer came to him, but he didn't want to accept it. He wouldn't do it, there was no way... but what choice was there? The only way to put something without the timestream back into it, safely, would be to find a medium... a thing that could exist in the timestream and outside it at the same time. The light of his being deadened at the thought... and then he gently probed into Schala's mind.  
***  
It was something out of a fantasy. A green field with tall grass that was moved in waves by an invisible, gentle wind. Ark made his way calmly through the grass, to the center of the dream. A small tree on a hill in the distance, two people were resting on it. One was Schala, the other... Janus.   
They both looked up at his approach, Schala with a small smile a Janus with something like dread. He couldn't meet their eyes. He didn't dare.  
  
Epilouge.  
  
The tavern was packed, as usual. Fishermen, workers, businessmen. The haughty gentleman to the vagrant. The bar was jammed, people having to almost crawl over others to make orders. The piano in the corner played an upbeat tune, and mangled, drunken choruses filled the air. Everyone in the room had a shine to them, the upcoming fair would be a welcome break from the norm for most of them.   
All save one. He sat at the bar, drooping over his drink. His hair and cloths were brown with mud and grit. His eyes were haunted, even through the alcoholic stupor he had drunk himself into. A glass of 'Phoenix Juice' sat in front of him, next to it was a powder case filled with sulfur paste.   
Every once and a while, when he felt himself coming too close to reality, he would drink from bottle, and eat a chunk of the sticky yellow paste. He would descend back into his dreams, where nothing mattered. When asked for payment, he would mechanically go to the purse at his belt and withdraw a lump of gold. He had been like this for days.  
Tonight was different, but not by much. Since he had come, people had tried to start up conversations with him. Some were concerned, others irritated that someone was hoarding a spot at the bar. One, a young girl, had kissed him on the cheek as part of a dare. She had run away giggling hysterically. He hardly noticed.   
***  
It was with the same nihilism that he didn't notice the very large, very drunk, and very angry sailor enter the bar. The man was already bleeding from the nose, and muttering curses at anyone that got near him. The sea of people parted for him, like some otherworldly holy man. He made his way, staggering, to the bar, and demanded for "liquoor". The bartender, a young man, refused. The sailor smashed his fist into the bar, leaving a dent. The bartender reached under the counter for his bat...   
***  
It took him a little while to notice his glass had fallen over. He stared at it a moment, saw himself in the mirror-like surface of the pool, and frowned. His thoughts were swimming up towards the surface again, they had to be drowned. Like a child, he drew his fingers through the pool of liquid, brought it to his lips. Not enough. Wiped some past off the counter, into his mouth. Tasted wrong.   
He looked around, where was the crossdamned 'tender? There, talking with that big man. He got up, fell over once, steadied, and walked over to the bartender, who was busy talking to the big man. He waited for a bit, for his turn, got tired, pushed the big man out of the way, and took his turn.  
***  
... and the sailor jerked backwards, so quickly it was hard to follow. He flew backwards, threw the parted sea, through the door, which shattered off it's hinges, and was swallowed up into darkness. Everyone stared at the broken door for a moment, and then slowly turned to the bar. Ark blinked once, hiccuped, and then took out another lump of gold, clumsily placing it on the counter. "Another pwease." The white haired man yawned, and returned to his seat, mumbling.  
The silence was platable. It wasn't until the bartender had refilled the glass and given Ark some more paste did things begin again. Though this time it was a little quieter.  
***  
Ark, mind deep under a sea of Phoenix Juice, contemplated the reflection his glass gave off. Somewhere deep within him, a voice commented on how wretched that person in the glass must be. Ark gently pushed that voice aside, and took another sip.  
  
End...   
?  
Perhaps.  
  
  



	3. Glimmerings

Authors Notes: The first person to R&R or flame me gets a cookie! No no, it's just I didn't get much (read, any) feedback on the last chapter, which surprises me, I was expecting, I don't know, at least thirteen different flames. (I'm of the opinion the thing was too crossdamn long to catch anyone's interest.) So far the only feedback I've gotten is from Karen Black, aka Misato-kun, god bless her.   
  
Also, for those of you with problems dealing with the ending to Chrono Cross, might I recommend "World Without End". (it's an actual, printed book) I don't know who wrote it, two authors I think, but it has some bearing on the problem of 'somehow, somewhere, sometime, I will find you.'   
  
*** indicates where there is a change in prespective. Arigato and Ja Ne.  
  
  
Elsgod - Glimmerings  
  
-The End of Time-  
  
Gasper wasn't surprised when he felt the boy return. What surprised him was the form the boy wore. Ark appeared as he always did, suddenly and silently, kneeling. He waited for a moment, probably to make sure he he had assembled himself correctly, Gasper thought, and then rose. Gasper greeted him as he always did, by smacking him in the shin. Usually the body Ark had built for himself was strong enough, or not developed enough, to ignore the pain. This time he jumped, and dropped back in a defensive stance.   
The old man gruffed laughter to himself, and then raised his hat to get a good look at his visitor. The old man squinted, blinked, looked again. "Janus?" Not so tall, slender build, white hair, just about right... The old man stood, despite the burning pain his joints gave him. "Janus? Is that you? I thought you were... someone else." 'Janus' still hadn't relaxed his defensive stance. He asked, "You are the Guru of Wisdom, Gasper, correct?" The old man laughed again. "I believe that's what they used to call me, ages ago. But you should know that as well as anyone!" 'Janus' relaxed a little.   
***  
Janus... that was the name of the Princess' brother wasn't it? Was the old man so senile to think he was that boy? "I'm not Janus, sir." Courteous. The old man looked at him, and reached out with one clawed hand. The hand seemed to test the air around it, and then disappeared back into the folds of his cloak.  
"Ark... so you've come back. I thought you would." The crone gestured beyond the fence that encircled the 'End of Time'. "I felt you awhile back, figured you must finally be doing something productive for a change." He waited. Nothing. "So what did you do this time? Try to deflect it totally? Yank it outside time again? Or were YOU the one that planted that second moon in the sky?" Second moon? As far as Ark knew, there had always been a second moon in the sky.   
"I came to you because you're the only person I remember who is still alive." The Guru of Wisdom regarded him for a moment, his mood changing from irritance to interest. "Remember? Have you lost a part of yourself boy?"   
***  
Ah, something hadn't felt right. That bold arrogance that was so characteristic of Ark, the blind enthusiasm to take whatever course of action that presented itself. Totally absent from this specimen. 'Carthesis' the old man's mind screamed. "I... don't remember a lot of things." Ark was almost totally different now, fascinating. "I was moving around outside the timestream, and found something..."  
After Ark had finished his story, they both sat in silence. Gasper scratched his chin absently, deep in thought. Ark was rubbing his swelling shin. Finally, silence broke: "Tell me Ark, why did you choose that form?" Ark looked down. As far as he could remember, it was the only body he had ever known. "Because... hm. This was the form I had in the Princess' dream. I assumed it was my own." Gasper got up, and began to hobble around Ark. After a complete revolution, he sat down again. "That body you wear, is very close to what Schala's younger brother, Janus, probably looked like at your age. You're what now? Nineteen?" Ark shook his head.  
Doesn't even remember his own age... fascinating. "Did the Princess ever recognize you as Janus?" No. "Did she ever address you as Prophet?" Again negative. Hmm... very interesting indeed.  
***  
What was the old man trying to get at? Looking totally different from everyone else in Zeal had damned him. That was why the guards had suspected he was Earthbound in the first place! The old man continued: "In all the times you've come to talk, this form is the most vulnerable you've worn." The old man grinned, and smack Ark's other shin, who yelped and scooted back. "This body is also well formed, if I'm reading you correctly, down to last synapse in that wooden head of yours. Since you don't seem to remember, you used to take numerous forms whenever the fancy struck you. Most were humanoid, others not so. You would link your brain to major motor functions, basically making it a stupid mannequin, not even really aliv*" the old man stopped, and grinned. "You haven't decided to go sowing your wild oats have you? Found some pretty girl who doesn't consider extradimensional dysfunction a risk to the relationship?" The old man laughed until he had to spit, and Ark turned red.  
"No, that couldn't be it, you would have just added a couple of blood vessels and a stronger heart..." the voice dropped into a mumbling garble.  
This conversation was really starting to unnerve Ark. In his visions of Chronopolis, he had worn the same body. If that had not been fact, how much of the vision had been changed by his lack of memory? He pictured Relista in his mind again, and became aware that something was wrong with the picture. He couldn't place it, but it was enough to seriously unsettle him. "I guess Schala's powers would be magnified significantly outside the timestream... hmmm." Ark had the distinct impression the old man was talking to himself. "So... trapping another, forming a dream... not applying typical temporal axioms to a power not native to them in the first place, add in the applications of the fifth and sixth dimensions on a nonphysical state..." The old man's words became a mumble again.   
How long has the Guru been here? How far away was he from insanity? Ark's thoughts, and their implications, were not pleasant. "Yes... that would make since. She would be looking for that, wouldn't she? Yes, her brother and she were very close." The old man was staring off into the nothingness... doubtless thinking it was looking back at him.   
Ark shuddered, perhaps he should have figured all this out on his own, over a glass of something strong, and maybe some sulfur paste. But no, that path had only made time move faster. He hardly remembered any of the year he had spent in that bar, save the times he passed out drunk and woke up more or less sober, a situation he had been quick to rectify. And he was still recovering from the hangover, three days after he had walked out of the bar.   
"Listen when I'm talking to you boy!" As if on cue, the Guru of Wisdom slammed his stick against the side of Ark's head, turning what had been a dull throb into a very intense, searing pain. While Ark was busy gently sobbing to himself, the Guru began to explain the current condition, as his logic perceived it. "When you were drawn into that dream your body was without form, as you said. Schala's subconscious, which was obviously not as empty as you thought, must have given you that form in hopes that you would run into Schala at some point in the dream and be able to comfort her. Why the years were advanced, the last time the Princess saw Janus he was eight... or nine..." The old man's eyes glazed over for a moment, Ark was worried that he had just snapped.   
"...ten, he was ten-ish. Yes. So why would the age be... hmmmm. Schala, how old were you? Lesee.. oh dear, that's right isn't it? Disturbing, but I agree, that does make sense. No, I'm not saying it was intentional, probably just a coincidence..." Ark rose to his feet, very slowly. The Guru was beginning to get very animated in his arguments with the void. Ark had hoped to find some answers here, instead it had only raised more questions and doubts. While the Guru of Wisdom began to duel an invisible opponent, he opened a Gate and stepped through, he needed a drink.  
***  
When the boy had left, the Guru stopped his seemingly insane ramblings. The door behind him opened and a small, white furred creature rolled out. "Was it him again?" the creature asked. Gasper nodded. "What are we going to do about him? Want me to get him the next time he comes?" Gasper considered. "No... we can't be certain that he won't achieve his goal. If he does manage it, we won't have to worry about him anyway." Gasper closed his eyes and pulled at his walking stick's 'handle'. A hidden sword came out of it's sheath. "But if it comes to that, I'll kill him myself."  
The creature nodded and rolled out of the room, leaving Gasper to sheath his weapon and collapse against the lamp post. Would Ark be surprised to learn how frightened Gasper was of him? Would he be surprised to learn how every moment Gasper sat here, at the end of an eternity, he worried about the next time the boy would visit? Gasper began to shake, his body was getting too old, if he didn't finish what Crono and his friends had started oh so long ago, no one would. 'Schala.' The old man thought to himself, 'Watch yourself.'  
  
At a bar, in a nameless tavern on the continent Porre, Ark sat. He slowly turned the glass in front of him around. Again. It tasted wrong. Nothing tasted right since he had gotten sober. He realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that nothing would taste right until he made things right again. 'Princess' his mind cried. 'Please be the same person I glimpsed in that dream, please be unchanged.' His hand tightened on the crystal goblet until it shattered. His hand bled, he didn't care. 'Please don't let Lavos change you... please don't add another name to the long list of people I've killed.' He ran both hands through his hair. People he thought he had killed, in any event. 'Please, please...' his inner voice was beginning to plead with nothing, growing childish and desperate. 'Please don't make it that I killed you.'  
  
To Be Continued  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Enter the Third

Authors Notes: 

Sorry for the delay. Had to take a little while to acclimate to school again. Standard disclaimers; it's not a gem and so forth. 

Also, let me say that I know what Harle looked like in the game, and the way she talked. I've studied her to a fanatical (and downright disturbing) level, so be aware that everything stated here that does not seem to parallel the Harle you know is a very deliberate act.

Now, since someone who shall not be named *cough* Karen ~*~ Harlequin *cough* stole my only decent Lovecraftian phrase "That is not dead which may eternal lie, and through strange aeons even death may die..." I'll have to come up with a new parting quote. Arigato, and Ja Ne.

****

*Update*

01.25.01

I think I have most of the errors worked out now, so its fairly safe to read. I also converted it to rich text (I've been using Notepad until now, it never crashes). I'm toying with the notion of adding onto the ending, but I really don't expect any repeat readers, so that would only serve to confuse people reading the next chapter. Oh yes, to those that inquired, it _was_ 'beat the shit out of Ark' day.

---------------------------

She passed through the golden light, her fingers closing something that seemed to wither with life... it seemed to try to get away, but while it's powers were great they were sorely unfocused. They... It was calling her again. She shot upwards, pausing only long enough to slap that dog of a girl that would have destroyed herself and everyone else along with her. She passed through the ceiling, and through countless levels of technology and dead. The latter reached out with their many insubstantial hands as if to stop her, but she was faster and stronger.

As she cleared the last hurdle of technology, the powers she served became impatient and pulled her to them. The movement was so quick it left even her disoriented... so it took her a moment to realize she was within the Time Devourer itself. The Frozen Flame was gone, and she could feel her mind reach out and connect to a greater gestalt entity. She had expected a babble of voices, all six of the Masters arguing amongst themselves, but instead she only heard one. 

She became aware, even as she drifted into the sea of consciousness, her mind diffusing and mingling with the Other's, that this was not what she had wanted. She had been human, an individual, far too long to sacrifice that uniqueness. She realized vaguely that the Masters must have been constantly suppressing that line of thought from her mind for some time. She tried desperately to establish a point of concentration, a point that would let her retain some sense of self, and to a degree succeeded.

"I\we have seen\precieved a\the threat." The gestalt rumbled. "The Tower's mirror\reflection\opposition must be\shall be eliminated." Harle tried to make sense of the words, her being still too scattered too... 'No! Not zSerge I 'all not let you!' she reached out and tried to stop the gestalt, but found she was only a mote in an expanse of vast, nearly unimaginable power. 

What was left of her being began to collapse, she couldn't exert her will in two places at once. But to her credit, she tried to the last. She went down silently screaming, as if torn underwater by a violent undertow. She felt herself begin to stretch out...

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about death, she had learned that after watching Serge and Sir Lynx fight. Her being had screamed at her to do something, knowing to do so would be to invoke Their wrath. Death was the ending of life, of consciousness, of self. She hadn't gotten to say her good-byes, hadn't been able to save Sir Lynx, Serge, or ultimately, herself.

In that moment, the distorted caricature that had been Harle shattered.

***

High above Chronopolis the Time Devourer hovered, a glassy concentration of energy in it's mouth, seeming to quiver for release. For a moment, all was still. Even the birds, sensing imending destruction, had left. The massive, unearthly creature wavered about, as if indecisive. Then with an unearthly scream wrent the air, and the huge black thing flipped over and sped for the horizen, where the Tower waited.

Deep within it, the Frozen Flame blazed in outrage.

Battles were fought, lost. Ultimately the only thing left was rebirth.

Elsgod03 - Enter the Third

Ark breathed in the salty sea air, and wondered if it would be worth it. He sat on a small raft he had 'borrowed' in Termina. Above him, in all its haunting beauty, was the Tower. At least he assumed it was called the 'Tower', he had such trouble remembering the specifics of the dream. The dream... which had come to him in a Porre inn, on the first night in a long while he hadn't been drunk. The dream had been vague and indistinct, but in it this 'Tower' had been pictured, and then there had been a feeling of great power. Perhaps powers that could help him, it was... familiar.

He had wandered from Porre to Termina, travelling as a 'guest' to a merchant. After having to hide in a ship's hold for three days straight with something that burned his eyes and nostrils, he had decided that the next trip would have to be taken in a much faster, and broadly unknown way. As he looked up at the Tower, hovering hundreds of feet above the Earth, he knew that he would have to use that unknown method much quicker, and with a narrower degree of accuracy, than he would have liked. 

He had no way of measuring the distance to the top of the tower, were there was presumebly an entrance, but he tried anyway. Then he took a deep breath, feeling a little foolish as he did, and detached himself from space\time. 

Floatingsearchingfinding.

The breath was sucked out of his lungs instantly. For a moment he flailed madly, grabbing for something, anything. Then he opened his eyes. Falling through the sky! There, far below him, was the Tower, no bigger then his thumb. He had to shift... but he couldn't concentrate! Panic had grabbed him, and refused to let go. He tried to steady himself, but ended up tumbling even faster than before. Focusfocusfocusfocus... the last thing he saw were towering thunderheads, building in the distance.

Floatingsearchingfinding.

There was only pain, all encompassing and mind numbing, as he moved his entire being into solid rock. The pain was brief, only lasting until the body was full formed, but it was complete. Then he died, his mind floating free...

Floatingsearchingfinding.

This time he appeared almost twenty feet from what later turned out to be an entrance. He could have probably stopped himself just before he hit the water smooth stone, to disappear from space only to reappear a moment later all forces of inertia negated, but he was still numb from his last attempt, and death. He allowed his body to fall with a sickening crack to the Tower. 

Laying on a broken foot, atop a floating tower that shouldn't have been, Ark cringed and hissed, spittle flying through his teeth. His leg, thankfully only one, was broken. No, the more appropriate term would be 'shattered'. He tried not to look at it or the blood that welled sluggishly from it, and rose slowly on one leg... the broken bones rubbed together, and he collapsed again.

Later, after more self-inflicted pain then Ark had ever known (which admittedly wasn't much) the bone was back in the flesh. He hobbled on one leg, leaning to one side to suspend the broken foot in the air, and took in the entrance. 

Sickly, lichen green and covered in alien sigils, the doors themselves were daunting. The large stairs were another challenge altogether. They were slick with slime, and enormous. It was as though the entire thing had been created with something much larger than man in mind. Ark shuddered at the thought. 

He hopped over to the nearest stair, which came from the floor to his stomach. He closed his eyes a moment, getting ready for the inevitable pain from his leg, pressed both hands against the first stair, and pushed down, bringing his good leg around to help him upwards. The foot found a shallow hold on the stone, and he scrambled upwards. Just as he began to regain his balance, his good foot slipped and he fell down onto the cool stone. His leg screamed out as he looked up, somewhat blankly, at the sky, which was being darkened by thunderclouds. 'One down,' he thought, clumsily getting up and leaning against the next stair, his eyes tearing up. 'Seventeen... nineteen to go.'

He hopped through the hall, shivering. The rain, which had caught him on the last stair, had been ice cold. The wetness had dried soon enough, since 'shifting' only allowed the flesh, and not clothing to be reproduced, but the water had followed him. The floor was slanted at an angle that allowed the water to flow from the entrance down the wide corridor. Every dozen feet there was a drain that added to the flow, which had brought along with it a chilling breeze. 

Ark's nails found nicks and holds in the bricks whenever he needed to steady himself. He hadn't fallen yet, and the thought of splashing facedown into that ice-fire was enough to make his skin crawl. 

Eventually he made it to the 'heart' of the Tower, or at the very least a central location. The much-hated water flowed off into the air, for both the ceiling and bottom of the place were deep enough to be shrouded in darkness.

Exploring the stone walkways that curled towards the invisible ceiling, Ark made a somewhat peculiar discovery: metal rods. Straight, as tall as he was and balled at one end, there were a half-dozen scattered around the walkways, with no discernable pattern to their location. Ark leaned over and picked one up, and became infinitely more mobile. 

As he walked through the middle of the room, onto a rounded dais like platform, the stone beneath him began to quake. For a sick instant the floor seemed to quiver, and then it simply collapsed. Ark had only instants to contemplate the advantage of trying to move through space\time again, when his broken leg caught on a part of the walkway that was stable. He didn't feel any pain, his vision just blacked out.

Deep within the Tower, an insubstantial thing that existed in many moments at once began to come into focus...

When he awoke, his leg was healed. So he had died... again. He sat up, ankle deep in water, and looked heavenward. There was nothing but darkness. The only sound was of water, reduced from fat droplets to more a mist, making contact with the otherwise still surface. 

The room, totally neglecting the ceiling or lack thereof, was enormous. Ark had fallen into a corner, and the opposite walls of the square room were shrouded in mist, more of a vague impression of substance than anything. There was no indication of method of entry or exit, just plain wall interrupted at certain point by small flickering balls of fire, the only source of light. Something nagged at the back of Ark's mind. 

There was little to do but walk, though Ark doubted circling the room would make that much difference. There was a purpose to him being here, he had felt it the moment the huge structure had come thundering out of time with all the grace of a boulder being pushed off a hill, and then the recurring dreams in which a flame radiated from the heart of a Tower made of etheral black mists... He just had his doubts that it was to be here in this room, trying to ignore the fact that he could no longer feel his feet for the chilled water.

-6 Hours Later- 

Ark kicked frantically to stay afloat. Yes, all the walls had been exactly the same, and no, there had not been purpose in him walking to each of them. He had found his 'walking stick' a short distance from his landing, and that had been a good thing, because it had taken a very long time to walk to each of the walls, which turned out to be about double the distance he had guaged them at. He had had to paddle at the end of the last one, the ever falling water having gotten so deep that he couldn't stand and keep his head above water. 

So he was trapped, no big deal. Ark thought to himself. It wasn't like he could die in the first place... He would stay here another hour, to see if perhaps the room had a hidden trigger of some sort, or an entrance in the wall that would shortly be water level. He was completely in control, he had nothing to worry about, he could ignore the cold, he was okay, okay? Okay! (At this point he was hypothermic) 

He was swimming in little circles, humming to himself, when it happened. At first he didn't notice the water around him growing darker, all his attentions were on the wall. He pressed up against it. So warm... what he did notice was when a huge wave smashed into him, the bone chilling cold covering his face, and forcing his underwater. Restored to temporary competence by the offending water, he fought his way back to the surface and took in a sight that he would remember for some time. The middle of the room seemed to bulge up, sending volumes of water thundering down on him. He ducked beneath the water and pivoted against the wall, trying somewhat successfully to escape the seemingly impossible forces. It was after he was smacked into the wall and left drifting, clinging a small irregularity in an otherwise smooth wall, that he realized the water level was dropping. 

His head quickly broke the surface, though he hadn't moved at all. The water below him was black, the floor nowhere in sight. When he looked up he saw why. The 'floor' now jutted up from the surface of the water at an inconceivable angle. At first he couldn't understand it, it was simply to BIG. Then terror seized him. It wasn't the fact that the water was draining to who knew where, nor that he was about to get slammed on the head by what had at one time been the floor he walked on. It was just that things couldn't exist on that scale, it was too impossible, too unthinkable. Later, he would find that a funny thing for someone with his experiences to say. 

He might have disappeared at that moment, to a nice warm tavern, or the airspace immediately above it at any rate. Anywhere sane. But he was dragged underwater as a huge bubble of air broke the surface, and he didn't have time to think. 

When he came to he was already walking towards It. His body was battered, but not broken. His legs shook, but still trod the smooth stone. He had been awake for some time, but he simply hadn't been aware that he was seeing anything. The vision his eyes took in, a huge pulsating mound of flesh, connected to hundreds of red vines that jutted out of the rock from every possible angle, was simply there, and it meant nothing. 

At the moment he was thinking about that one tavern in Porre with the pretty waitress in it. He saw her smiling at him, frowning slightly when that look of affection turned to one of disgust the moment she thought he wasn't watching. It was okay though. He would, no he had stopped drinking already, hadn't he? No more of the clear syrup that burned as it oozed down his throat and churned in his stomach... No he was different noweeeeeeee...

When he reached the the nameless organ he stopped, and swayed on his feet, his mouth twisted in a silly grin, his body occasionaly twitching spasmically. Though his eyes were opened, they turned in random, meaningless patterns characteristic of dreamers. Silently, like a leaves falling from some horrid tree, the tentacle... vine things connecting the thing to the walls detached and floated down lazily. Moments later, Ark was covered.

It felt another's warmth again, so small yet so welcome. It wrapped It's extensions around the warmth and gently brought it foreward. 

Ark was thinking about how certain beds could be very warm, and how loony that guy Gasper was, when the huge, slopping thing opened with a hiss, warm steam escaping from it's maw. He grinned slightly; those beds were soft.

'At last!' It cried out. Another thing... son of man, but still warm... still framed in ever so malleable flesh, as they all were. It brought the man closer, into itself. The clumsy thing stumbled and fell into it, striking the tender innards and bringing forth a frothy black blood. The thing squealed and closed it's mouth, it's entire body constricting. The man was mumbling to himself now, and almost lazily kicked out, tearing through It's stomachs and flesh. The thing screamed out mentally, as it's brain began to loose life. It worked quickly, in a series of movements and internal flexs practiced millions of times in it's mind. 

Thousands of vein like tubes tore into the man's flesh. It would have sneered had it a face... now it was time for the son of man, and Lavos, to pay.

Ark was fumbling towards conciousness. The warm bed was now warm and soaking wet. He tried to tear the covers off, but couldn't...

The tiny tubes pulsated with life, and a fine spray of black ichor jetting out from around the thousands of incisions. The Thing rumbled in delight. It could already feel Itself begin to move...

He rested as only beds could. Soft and slightly damp sheets curled around him in absolute contentment. The Thing that rested on him was coming around. The bed was so happy. He tightened his sheets around the faceless, oily thing. But the things just ripped through the sheets and got out. The bed was puzzled, and then angry. It wasn't nesccary for the Thing to ripe it's fine, warm sheets! The bed would have laid there in mute indignition for a long while, had the Thing not left the room, it's formless body already taking a more distinct shape... 

It reveled in it's accomplishment. To be free at last of that broken and blind body! Though the flesh of it's new form was ripped and bleeding, that could, would, be corrected in time. It stepped out of the mound of flesh, free at last of the maddening caccoon. It's old body was already breaking apart like well cooked meat. The man didn't have enough focus to hold the form together. 

It stretched out the ectoplasmic mass that was all that remained of the man's original form. To be alive again, to walk amongst the freaks unnoticed, undetected. It quivered in delight. For thousands of years It had felt and seen many things, but the most distinct was the memory of walking amongst the children of Lavos, feeling their sorry forms slip by like oil as they walked closer and closer to their own deaths. The memory was faint and muddled with a haze, but there. Extatic, the thing was about to set about making a new body when the smoldering pile of flesh that had once been it exploded. Tendrils of gore rained down, turned the ankle deep water black and oily.

The moment the Thing left Ark returned to his senses... for what they were worth. He could see nothing and felt a thousand things, from the cold water that went through flesh and fueled his body(?) to the surface of the walls around him to the warmth that stood next to him. Instinctively he tried to open his eyes; he had none. Tried to move, flex a muscle; muscles turned over sloppingly, but the wrong ones. 

It was like having a mind waking up before the body, the mind worrying about each breath and beat of their heart, all the while trying to reach up and tear away the blackness that covered it's eyes. After going into a spasmic rage, which only resulted in a terrible cold feeling from ruptured organs, Ark finally gathered enough of his senses to 'shift'. As he left the body it exploded, no longer having anything to bind it together. 

He reached out into that terrible nothingness, moving with an instinctive grace he had lacked before. Forget Towers and living beds, Ark was going back to Porre, where he didn't have to worry about being drowned in a giant drain and the beds moved if you wanted them to. Whatever power had summoned him obviously didn't like him much. He sped down the centuries, back to when Guardia was still a small province, El Nido Archipelago was still dotted with dozens of tribes, and eldritch powers from large floating death traps did not try to summon him to his doom. 

The Thing was fascinated. It felt the man leave after the body had exploded, and followed his trek through time using the power nestled deep within it's heart. Was this what happened to humans after they died? Did they rush back to their creator, or to the explosive choas that was the beginning of time? Almost casually, It reached out with the same power it had used to watch the seemingly impossible escape, and grabbed the rapidly retreating spirit. It had slew many men, but had lacked the control it possessed now, after years of introspection. Such an act was as simple as twitching a muscle. 

Ark was standing in a large room, on a pile of rotting flesh, probably what had been his own. Before him was something of a nightmare, a shapeless being that seemed to never cease in movement. Pain cut through him as dozens of lacerations opened up and down his 'fresh' body. He moaned and doubled over, but kept on his feet. Blood trickled down his legs and mingled with the chaotic gore. Everything was so very cold. He looked up at the Phantom, and observed it's soundless approach.

Ahh, now what? Should it kill the human again, and seal his mind within itself? Or perhaps simply let him loose again to fulfill whatever destiny awaited the dead, and make use of it's oddly formed flesh? No... It's memories about human behavior were still largely incomplete, perhaps this one could act as a guide... a pawn...

It stretched out and touched the man, immobilizing him. Then It moved itself onto him, until he was submerged and choking on it's flesh. 

A moment, two, and the man's wounds began to close. A minute and his body was as good as it had first appeared bubbling out of nothing. Peculiar ability, must be characteristic of the dead reintroduced into the timestream. It retracted and waited for the man to collapse, then it set about making it's new form. There was something from another hazed memory, a broken part of itself that made creation slow and difficult but... there!

Ark vomited as soon as the thing came away from his mouth. He almost collapsed in doing so, so weak he was. His stomach churned and wound so tight he worried it might rip if he rose too quickly... but gently the tightness loosened, and he stood. The Phantom thing was churning, seeming to be trying to consume itself. Ark took several steps back, this thing might have healed him, but perhaps to only enjoy the sport of killing him better. It had reached out somehow and yanked him back from outside time and space, so it's powers were already beyond his. Running again would probably do no good... he clinched his fists and uttered a silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in that this Thing was benevolent. 

The form outlines... muscle structure... bipedal sync rhythms... It had plumbed all the knowledge it had out of it's subconscious and undermind. Now to test it.

The Thing began to take on a more distinct shape, humanoid. Ark remained where he was... there was little he could hope to accomplish by running away again. Two legs, two arms, thinning out now... It turned, a rudimentary face coated in quicksilver staring at him with blank eyes. It walked towards him, and with each step turned more and more human-like. It stopped within arms reach, and Ark trembled. 

The thing's energy was felt before seen, cold and dark. As Ark looked unsteadily into it's mirror eyes, he felt a firm conviction that he had never encountered anything like it before. The memories of who he was and what he had been; before being drawn into the Princess of Zeal's dream might well have welled up from their dark hiding place, just long enough to verify that no, they didn't know what the Thing was. He tensed, not knowing what to expect or how to counter act it. The patterns that danced on the Thing's surface slowed, and then stopped. Ark began to unconsciously gather energy around his fist... and a _human_ burst out of the statue-esque creature! He had to stop his fist halfway through a reflexive punch, and observe the energy which he hadn't been aware of, scatter to places unknown.

The human reached out to steady itself against Ark. Bald and hunched over, the sex of it was impossible to determine. The thing seemed to gather itself, putting it's energies, now warm, but still dark, in order. It backed up and Ark saw it was in fact female. He stared for a moment, feeling stupid as the color in his cheeks rose. The woman (girl?) fell to her knees and planted her hands (that lacked nails, Ark noticed) on the submerged stone. A moment passed, the energy began to emancipate on itself... and a shock of black hair was suddenly on her head. It had not bubbled into existence, or grown very quickly, it simply _was_ one moment. Nails had formed too. 

The Thing (no, girl... _a girl_) gathered itself again, and then stood. Ark snapped his head around so quickly it was a miracle his neck didn't snap. Angel, demon, or what-have-you, the nudity disturbed him. He waited until the energy went through another transformation, and then looked... into misty blue eyes, tinged in red.

She was dressed like a... clown? No, Jester. Wearing a blood red costume far to intricate to take in all at once. Her face was painted white, with two tears on one side of the face, beneath the right eye, and a painted scar on the other. She looked at him for a moment, and then blushed.

To Be Continued... 


	5. Interlude - 01

  
*WARNING*--Just did first wave of 'fixes'.  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, this is not a chapter, it's an 'Interlude'. This is where I explain some aspects of the story that can't really be explained any better. This is a short story, with indirect bearing on the Elsgod series. All the Postulates are universally correct. (You will probably see their impact on my story in later chapters.)  
  
Yes, the term 'philontic ties' is ripped straight from the "Ender's Game" series.  
  
  
Interlude 01  
  
  
Sent//* --kdls0948.gov  
From//* --Kahleb Ledstar  
To//* --Alistari Ashtear  
  
Greetings Dr. Ashtear. I represent the interests of the Guardia government, by word of his Highness King Guardia XXXIV. We would like to request your help in verifying the authenticity of certain documents we have obtained. That is the contents of the attachment.  
  
During an excavation on the Southern Continent, with the cooperation of the Porre government, we discovered the ruins of what appeared to be a scientific laboratory. The attached documents were found within.   
  
You will of course be paid for your services, even if you simply disprove them. We appreciate your cooperation in this matter.  
  
-Colonel Ledstar  
  
[The attached documents contain pressed scans of very old looking, yellowed typesheet.]  
  
Postulate #309  
  
If for some reason the timestream should ever split, through methods and means beyond anything Mankind has built, discovered, or manipulated to date, then an exact copy of each universe would be created. If somehow the split is a result of the action (or inaction) of a person, then each result of each possible outcome of that situation will be reflected in each universe.   
[Below this, in shaking manuscript as opposed to printed sheet:]  
At latest, there are six possible outcomes to any given situation. For instance, if a person is at the threshold of life and death, they will obviously either live or die, but the METHOD of living or dying is what is different. Recent axioma have indicated that an environment can only hold so many outcomes with the limited variables it can accommodate. Therefore, it could infer that if the timestream did split it would not just be in two, but at maximum, six.   
  
Postulate #310  
  
As stated in the previous Postulate, a split in the timestream is theoretically possible (if not that probable). In this situation, each an every being would manifest in each different dimension at the same time. There would be vibrations that would manifest between them all to suggest that each of these people have a central self that connects them to the place where the original timeline used to be, but unfortunately one cannot speculate on how patterned energy could exist outside time.  
  
Previous statement notwithstanding, if the timelines were ever combined the result would be a combination of all previous timelines. Of course, history predating the split would remain unchanged unless somehow people from that time managed to interfere with it in some way. The combination would be, as near as one can calculate, completely random. If a building existed in three timelines and not in the other three, it could just as easily exist as not exist in the new timeline. It isn't just that way when the number is in balance; a trait unique to one timeline can easily overrule a shared trait of five timelines through sheer chance.  
  
The denizens of such a combine would exist, for moments, with memories of all the different timelines. Their 'beings' (the energy that maintains their sentience) would become as one. However, the influx of information, multiplying the total sum of knowledge in the being's brain by (upwards of) six kicks in a survival mechanism in every living thing. These beings simply store the information away, and wait to learn about their environment.  
Example:  
A girl has just been brought into the combine. All of her past 'selves' lived in a timeline where she had a pet dog, however in two of the timelines that dog was killed. The memories with the dog and the memories without the dog exist at the same time, but her mind represses them. She opens a door and the dog comes in, quite alive. Her mind automatically recalls the memories from the correct timeline(s).  
This process takes up a considerable amount of energy in humans, exercising areas of the brain usually left inactive, even in magicka. It would seem that whoever designed us might have installed such a massive brain for just such an eventuality (?).  
It must be noted that this method of elimination is not always correct, and there is inexplicable room for error in the process. Some Lesser Animals do not display this method. For more information, defer to Postulate #267 for information on 'Philontic Ties'.  
[Attachment ends.]  
  
[A message recorded by a ferret program snooping Head Scientist Ashtear's mailbox. This message, since irrelevant, was immediately discarded.]  
  
Sent//* --asat001.fate.net  
From//* --Alistari Ashtear  
To//* --Kedge Shoresong  
  
Hi cousin, sorry to bug you like this, but I thought you should know, that pesky Guard finally discovered that I was hoarding chocolate in my desk, I think he's going to wait until I'm not looking an eat it all. Imagine, he even had the gall to ask me if I was really hiding it there! I think I'd better hide it better. I'd recommend the same to you, those Guards are getting quite sharp these days.  
  
As usual, give my regards to your mother and sister. Oh, and say hello to that cute girlfriend of yours for me too ^^.  
  
Love,  
  
Aunt Ashtear  
  
[Alistari Ashtear's response.]  
  
Sent//* --asat001.fate.net  
From//* --Alistari Ashtear  
To//* --Kahleb Ledstar  
  
In response to your request. After carefully consulting all the given information, I have determined that these documents were either created by a madman or someone that wished a very thorough fiction to be their legacy. As is commonly known, temporal constant only allows there to be one timeline at any given time. The space outside the timeline, which would in no way be effected by the split, is simply too small to accommodate such a change.  
As a matter of fact, if something such as a split actually occurred, through methods unfathomable, it could very well mean the destruction of reality.  
While these papers were quite ludicrous in their ideas, they were very thorough. Perhaps there is something to be gleaned from further study, in that voice I would like to recommend a contract to inspect all other documents extracted from said site.   
Out of curiosity, what are these ruins dated as? To have such a firm grasp on reality as to accept that we must move through time would require some advanced sciences; Sciences that have been available so recently that even the oldest research faculty could hardly be called a ruin. Is there anything to indicate Reptite origin? Though I understand the official statement issued by Guardia regarding this 'myth' there is still strong evidence that such a proto-culture existed at some point in the far past. This information is highly preterit due to the fact that certain 'Reptite' artifacts, (proven 'fakes' of course) contained a cipher that could convey additional understanding when applied to a document.   
Looking forward to you response.  
  
Alistari Ashtear  
  
[Alistari Ashtear was later contracted out to inspect the 'relics'. Unfortunately all were as inaccurate as the first, though Dr. Ashtear made very complete copies, under the pretext that there might be some deeper cipher that they didn't know about.]  
  
Addendum to report:  
  
[The artifacts in question were recently destroyed, mid 1050 a.d., when an fire of unknown source swept through the ruins, destroying all the artifacts in question.   
Though unlikely atmospheric phenomena have been attributed to the destruction, several scientists and soldiers claimed to have witnessed a woman walking amongst the flames:  
"...like something out of a cheap movie. Pretty lady lookin' like a demon, moving through flames without being burnt, fire springing from her hands..."]  
  
[Official inquiry status: Case Closed]  
  



End file.
